A Place at the Table

A Place at the Table

I’ll set a place for you at my table

Smoothing linen like the sea sand. 

In September shadows

I’ll pick petunias 

purple, pink, white; 

a round-faced sunflower, 2 blood-red geraniums, 

arranged, centered for our gathering.

Patient, a place 

Waits

I’ll bring my grandma’s dish

passed down. Flavours that fed

families in dark and light

so seasoning became bone memory

simmered slowly for this moment.

I’ll ready the wine to

Breathe

warmth into limbs like fanned embers

as we sit in sun rays under

willow’s yellow.

When dark descends I’ll light candles so

light flickers face secrets 

Awake

holds silent space around 

your story like a sanctuary;

small seed palm-held for safekeeping

‘til spring.

Then listen, listen under 

stars deep into night’s well

as story threads through separation;

becomes a blanket. 

Wrapped again

we’ll part,

warmed, woven, 

One